


The Bite of '65

by DQuinns_Den



Series: The Bite of '65 & Related Ficlets [2]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: 1960s to 1990s basically, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Clubbing, Engineering, Epistolary, Eventual Sex, Eventual violence, Everyone Has Issues, Friends to Lovers to Enemies, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, No happy endings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic, Somewhat canon-compliant, could've been avoided with therapy, i said what i said, no homo Henry Emily, starts nice but ends bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DQuinns_Den/pseuds/DQuinns_Den
Summary: “I was in my junior year of college when William Afton set his sights on me. The fall of 1965. From then on, he destroyed my life.”In which Henry and William contemplate what brought them to this moment.(((In which I do not bother to approximate 1960s slang.)))
Relationships: Henry Emily/Original Female Character, Henry Emily/Original Male Character, William Afton | Dave Miller & Henry Emily, William Afton | Dave Miller/Henry Emily, William Afton/Original Female Character
Series: The Bite of '65 & Related Ficlets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083239
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. September, 1965

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, it gets worse!
> 
> I'll have to tag in the notes of each chapter as it goes on at some point, to prevent the actual tags from becoming soup.  
> Not beta'd, but I do have an enabler :D

**1.**

**H. Emily.  
September XX, 1965;**

I shoved my textbooks and journals into my ratty backpack, the morning sun glaring holes through the back of my head. Dragged myself to class looking unimpressive and unshaven, the first day had snuck up on me like the professor sneaking up on the kid sleeping during instruction. When I made the bare effort of brushing my teeth, something felt wrong about today, like I should have played hooky. 

After I got out of the dorm I figured that it was just stupid jitters, saw there was a crowd gathered around the message board that sits in the middle of the dorm cluster. There was some tall guy with long hair being fussed over by a bunch of girls. I just walked to campus, because I wasn’t feeling the idea of being late for something so… social. Groups of girls like that make me nervous.

My professor talked on and on about introductions. The class size was small enough to do that, a too-small classroom for fifteen tired kids and three instructors. Each one of them said something equally boring, but I noticed to my professor’s left side was that guy. Maybe it’s weird, but I thought he was kinda handsome up-close. The sort of man girls our age might think was good-looking?

He had rectangular, stylish glasses that seemed too small to do anything, and a sharp face - almost triangular - with some pronounced cheekbones. There was this confident air about him and what I assume to be a British accent when he spoke, he leaned forward with his elbows on the desk over a blank notebook’s first page. To be honest, I thought he was sort of intimidating at first. I wrote his name down somewhere, since he stood out so much. 

… William. I don’t think he said his last name in his introduction. It must be early in the alphabet for him to be in the same dorm block as me, though. I noticed he kind of scanned the room every few minutes, looking each of us up and down. It wasn’t the sort of thing that seemed… perverted. It seemed like he was looking for something. Probably the clock? I don’t know.

By the time class was over, William walked out last. I guess he had something to talk about with the professor? I left, kind of looking over my shoulder. I was a lot more awake for lunchtime, enough that I didn’t spring for a second coffee to go with my sandwich. I saw Dana from the edge of the cafeteria, she was talking excitedly about something with another girl I didn’t recognize. I didn’t go over to them, way too scared to make a fool of myself. She isn’t just pretty, she’s overwhelmingly smart, too - the kind of woman who’d make waves in science and make a name for herself. We only met a week or so ago, during orientation, but I really think we could have something if I got her attention… 

Not much else happened today, but I did think about how weird it was that William looked so… put together. Like he had something about life mastered that the rest of us didn’t, even though he said he was in the same year. Maybe he’s a little older because he transferred from England. Maybe he’s just that sort of guy? Now that I think about how all those girls crowded around him this morning, I have to wonder if Dana was one of them.

-x-

**AFTON  
XX OF SEPTEMBER, 1965**

It’s rather late in the night that I write this. My roommate is fast asleep at his desk, a monument to poor time management so early in the semester. It’s only autumn.

I observed most of his movements throughout the day; I will have no problems at all working around him. He is a sedentary fellow, Frederich, with a lumbering attitude and not much quickness in any aspect of life. I am astounded he can cook for himself without burning down the dormitory. However, he does manage to complete his work on time. He must be the kind who works well under pressure.

The morning was as it usually was, breakfast consisting of toast with beans and a cup of earl grey tea. As I looked out of the window, I realized I hadn’t had the time to examine the surrounding area with any real understanding, so I donned my jacket and satchel early. The temperature outside was much like the temperature of home, the memory of which set me both at ease and on edge. It was entirely possible that this venture would be yet another terrible miscalculation of mine.

I walked around the blocks of the dormitory without a particular path. The leaves did not crunch under my feet, the air too humid and the dew too present. The petrichor was unfamiliar to me. I looked at the large brick constructions that made up the dorm houses and wondered how the concrete was poured, how far beneath the surface the foundations lay. I have not yet had the chance to check for a basement in my own dormitory block. At some point, I checked my watch and saw that I had fifteen minutes to class-meeting. 

Before heading to the rest of campus, I wanted to look at the map of the entire area once more. I despise getting lost, and must have stood in front of the pinboard for at least five minutes acquainting myself with the turns to take and noting them down. Unfortunately, I hadn’t noticed that a gaggle of women had crowded around me. I entertained them as best I could, but found myself becoming irritable and displeased with my impending lateness. I started to wonder what each of these girls’ schedules were.

It would not have mattered if they told me; I wasn’t listening. There were a few who were going in the same direction as I, and, knowing the campus, offered to lead me. I accepted their offer and immediately preoccupied my mind with things that were not them. Where it was required that I laugh, I simply imagined Bonnibel. Before long we had arrived at the engineering building and I was finally permitted to split away from the girls. During my walk alone in the hall, I felt the peace before the storm. Being around many others required me to pretend with the utmost precision.

I think that I did well today. My eyes flittered about too much, most likely, but it was necessary to check my surroundings in reference to the door and the other students. There was one who seemed to notice this, however, and I think it would be best to be aware of him. He introduced himself as Henry Emily. I suppose Emily is his surname.

I took my lunch late. Mother budgets for our calls each month, and decided to spend yesterday’s reminding me to notify my professor that my spelling habits would not so easily change. While the old man thought me eccentric, he was accommodating and perhaps a little too animated by having a student “from across the pond.”

I spent my time today until now reading and writing. For comfort, I looked through my picture book of rabbits once more. I think I will have to buy a new one soon.

* * *

Winter was starting to nip at the heels of autumn, the chilling air hit most of the students like a brick as soon as they’d left their dorm. Henry slung a duffel bag of metal pieces, old toys and trinkets, wires, wrenches, pliers, and other miscellaneous objects over one shoulder. Over his other shoulder was a messenger bag which held his notebook, pens, and that god-awful textbook with 8pt font. His hands were occupied by his T-square, protractor kit, and a “comfort-size” compass that took up more space than it was worth. In short, Henry Emily was  _ miserable  _ that morning.

His look of concentration was enough to steer most of the other students away from his path, for fear of the T-square becoming a weapon. The architecture and design students nodded in solidarity, aware that the cartoonish amount of equipment could still not suffice at times. Henry’s gait was irregular; uncomfortable after less than two minutes of the straps digging into his shoulders, overheated somehow in the cold by the movement and weight of it all, and all-too aware that at any moment he could drop something from the duffel bag. He stopped every few steps to re-adjust the objects haphazardly heaped onto him. Despite his struggle, he had managed to reach the engineering building without hiccup, and on schedule at that.

He had not, however, accounted for the doorknobs of the institution being different from the simple push-doors of the dormitories.

Henry looked around the lawn, hoping to see some straggler student from the department that had still not made their way into the building. There were none. Henry then tried to gently knock the door open, willing that the door was not totally closed and would give. It did not. Sighing in resignation, he tried to open the door after shifting some of the items from his hands to balance on his elbow. The items dropped.

“God  _ dammit! _ ” He shouted, the clattering of the T-square on the concrete proclaiming his failure to the heavens. As he began to pick up the different objects, the smell of tobacco approached.

“You startled me.” A voice came from above him. Henry looked up to see that the British student from his class was standing over him. Between his thin lips sat a cigarette, halfway burnt; his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. The way Henry looked up at him, the classmate blocked out the sun with his head. It took him a moment to recall the man’s name.

“S-sorry, uh… W… William. It’s William, right?” Henry reached for a screwdriver that had fallen from his hands.

“Yes, William. That’s right.” Now that William was right next to him, Henry noticed that he’d killed the cig under his heel and was squatting on the pavement. “Would you like some help?” Not waiting for an answer, William moved his hand over the compass Henry had dropped. They gathered Henry’s tools and pencils in relative silence, just barely making it into the building with five minutes to spare. William opened the door for Henry instead, watching him as he entered. “After you.”

William watched Henry carefully. The way he walked was clearly impeded by the weight he carried, and his footfalls would not be accurate until after class was dismissed. The way to their 301 was a winding series of hallways, some narrower than others, and it served William’s curiosity well. Henry seemed nearly hyper-aware of his body in a way he hadn’t expected; while he wore thick glasses, his sight and ability to scan the area was above average. The spill earlier must have been caused by poor planning rather than poor balance.

During class, William found himself focusing less on the laboratory activity than he did on Henry Emily. His face was square and boyish, yet startlingly mature in its features. When Henry laughed or smiled, William saw that he looked for the approval of the professor and one of the girls in their class. Henry’s hands were not shaky, nor were his movements uncertain in the lab - further reinforcing the hypothesis that his planning was what was subpar. Though not entirely sure why, exactly, William was not opposed to studying Henry more.

Henry did notice something about William, though.  _ He stared. _ William stared a lot, in fact. But it was almost never at something or someone; William stared into space, often lost in thought looking at the blackboard or maybe a corner of the room. Sometimes William’s long hair would fall over his shoulder like silk as he turned his head, the cold black reflecting a striking grey under the yellowed lights. He also liked to sit with his elbows on the table, hands tented in front of his face with his cheek resting on them; it always reminded Henry of those investor magazines he’d see in the store with his mother. Businessmen lounging, overly confident in their skills in the boardroom or bedroom, totally certain that things would go according to plan. Henry supposed it matched up. Every time the professor asked a question, William was ready with the correct answer. He couldn’t imagine how William had all that knowledge stored away in his memory, especially not when Henry himself struggled to make sense of his own notes.

“That concludes today’s lesson. Any questions about your homework? The mechanics? I know this is a 301 for engineering, but I honestly find that…” The old man’s voice trailed off in Henry’s head. He was looking at William, who sat next to the professor, and was writing something down quite intensely in his notebook. In the week of classes they’d had, it looked like William went through at least a tenth of the ruled pages. There was no real time for Henry to consider the final words that the professor squeaked out, the TAs leaving, nor the fact that someone had called his name.

A tap on his shoulder. “Excuse me, Henry? Would you like to take lunch together?” Afton again. His face was darker than usual, as if he hadn’t slept well the previous night. How Henry hadn’t noticed before was beyond him.

“Uh… sure. I don’t usually have lunch with anyone though, and I only brought a sandwich and some soup…” Henry struggled to make eye contact. It was mostly because of the height difference, but the strange energy William brought with him was calming yet…  _ also _ unsettling in a way Henry couldn’t quite explain.

“If you don’t mind, that is. I’ve brought my own food as well for this afternoon.” William reeled himself back in, afraid that he had come off to Henry too strong. The body language seemed to be nervous, totally unlike the Henry that was focused and in his field of expertise. William extended his hand, “I could also help with the supplies that you brought in this morning.”

-x-

Somehow, Henry found himself entertaining William in the mess hall after a brief trip back to Henry’s room. It felt a little strange to be letting someone you barely knew see where you lived, but he supposed that it was bound to happen sooner or later as they lived in the same dormitory block. As he freed his sandwich from its prison in his lunchbox, Henry noticed how much brighter William’s face seemed to be. It was as if he was focused on something, something that wasn’t Henry, but perhaps over his shoulder… 

Between the two sat a sandwich, a thermos of soup, a salad, and an  _ incredibly _ awkward silence. William seemed to pick at rabbit food, not putting any sort of dressing on the salad before eating; Henry became increasingly aware of how his teeth sounded when he bit into the bread and meat. The roar of the lunch room was nearly drowned out by their own inability to speak.

“Uh,” Henry started, “so… You’re majoring in the Engineering branch, right?” William’s eyes flicked up, a subtle smile playing on his lips before widening into a more expressive one. He leaned forward, hand relaxing with the fork pointing down to the lettuce and tomatoes.

“Actually, I’m a business major…” Henry recoiled in his head, and William seemed to pick up on it. “...But I think that I should know how the machines I’m trying to sell work. It would be a disservice to the designers if I didn’t.” A business major… This guy was seriously in it for the money. Either that or he was a manipulative bastard.

But Henry kept that conclusion to himself. “That’s a lot of work, isn’t it? Switching the way your brain works for just one class, I mean.” William hummed, putting his fork down and thinking about the question.

“I enjoy the process of learning. I find challenging concepts to be the most rewarding, and business is often just convincing people you deserve their money… In other words, not so difficult at all.”

“Oh. It’s the fact that it’s hard, that makes you want to do it?” Henry paused and then cracked a smile at the phrasing - the two young men shared a laugh over it, not unlike schoolboys.

“Yes, exactly that.” The food was long gone from their shared table space. William took out his textbook, a brand-new edition with annotation flags from the beginning to the end. “When I become interested in something, I want to learn everything there is to be known about it. I may have gone a little overboard with my close-reading, though.”

Henry’s eyes ran over each page with awe. There was no way in hell that Afton had read each and every page already. But the note pages stuck in and written on were detailed notes of the material, even some questions that Henry recognized from their class earlier - he must really have actually read it. Before he could tear his eyes away from the slowly turning pages, the cafeteria around the two began to shift.

William checked his wrist watch. “Ah, time flies. I suppose I’ll see you next week then, right, Henry?”

A spark of recognition ran through Henry’s chest. People had called him before, and tacked his name onto the end of sentences, but this felt more intimate. More real. “R-right. Next week, in class.”

“A pleasure having lunch with you.” William disappeared into the shuffling crowd, leaving Henry alone at the table they’d just shared.

Somehow, it felt like hours had passed when time finally moved again and Henry peeled his body from the stool.


	2. October, 1965

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry catches the flu; later, he and William go to a movie theatre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It lives, and presents to you... A Halloween episode, something like four months after Halloween! Truly, life makes me terribly busy. This is not beta'd, so please overlook any mistakes :>
> 
> WARNING: This chapter has a bit of homicidal ideation and murder boners. Possessive language is also present here and there.

**2.**

**Emily**

**October XX, 1965;**

I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I felt like I was dying when I woke up. I must have caught the flu going around. Rolling out of bed itself was painful, but today I had my favourite class. I slept past class-time.

At some point after the sun had gone down, I was well enough to sort of waddle around the dorm and asked my roommate if he could go get some notes for me. Fawkes saw me, declared I looked like I had the plague, and then asked me where to go.

I kind of remembered that I knew where William lived, so I just gave Fawkes his name and hoped that he’d be fine with me using his notes to study from. I laid my sorry ass on the couch and closed my eyes, pulling the blankets stuck beneath me up to snuggle into them. The door to the outside clicked and I probably slept for an hour and a half.

I faded in-and-out of consciousness for a long time after that. When I went to change sleeping positions I noticed something flat and hard under me, and I found that full-up notebook I saw William with in class. Fawkes came through for me.

 _… William_ came through for me.

It was a goddamn weird thought for me to have. It still freaks me out writing it down, now that I’ve got some sense in me. It had to be the fever cooking my brain that made me think that. His notes are really thorough, though… Something even a professor would be jealous of. Crazy neat handwriting, super organized, little flags for each chapter and idea, lists of questions to ask in class… Reading it was almost like reading another version of the textbook. 

When I was flipping through trying to find the chapter we were doing that week, I saw a little note fall out. I took a second to go get it, thinking it was one of the extra notes Afton sometimes wrote, and as I turned it over I saw that the paper was actually different than the note paper he used.

The paper said “Get Well Soon,” so I’m sure that Fawkes mentioned me being sick. I was stuck between absolute mortification and, I guess, appreciation? William was just being polite, so I don’t know why I took it so personally. I’m gonna go get something hot to eat and then go back to sleep. I’ll copy down the notes tomorrow morning.

-x-

**AFTON  
XX OF OCTOBER, 1965**

Henry Emily wasn’t in class today. He was usually a very punctual student, it was outside of his mode of operations to miss class haphazardly. Apparently he hadn’t informed the professor ahead of time that he’d be late or absent, which made me think that there was little likelihood of him intending to be gone.

It was terribly boring in class today without him. I had trouble paying attention, the old man teaching at me was far too dry and pedantic. I already taught myself the course material for the day and had showed up mostly for the laboratory… I think that was a mistake.

No one else in this class was even slightly aware of their surroundings, it seemed. One of the boys was clumsy enough to knock a rather heavy-duty wrench over onto the floor, barely missing my feet. The same boy mis-wired our classwork to the point of it sparking. While I kept my cool on the outside, I could not help but rage a bit internally. Luckily, the lone woman in our group rescued the situation without causing too much trouble.

I struggled for the rest of the day with my thoughts. Usually it was not anger that… excited me. I wanted to fold that stupid boy in half and choke him until he couldn’t speak. I considered following him home and trapping him, crushing his little windpipe until his eyes filled up with blood… and suddenly I would snap back to Henry Emily’s face.

The single conversation we had left a considerable impression in my mind, it seems. I thought of choking him momentarily, finding myself more invested in this fantasy… It was different, imagining hurting Henry. I tried not to get too carried away before entering my dorm room, feeling a faint blush creeping up my body to my cheeks.

Through the fog, I heard myself putting my keys down on the counter of the kitchenette. The dusty, desaturated blueness of the dorm told me I didn’t need to worry about Frederich… hearing. Or seeing things. 

I wanted to calm down. The more I worked myself up, the harder it would be to come down from this self-inflicted problem. I would not make the same mistakes again, no matter how tempting it would be. I took a cold shower.

As I dried myself off, I heard someone knocking. When I answered it, a man about my age with scraggly auburn hair and light brown eyes sat behind the threshold. He wore paint-stained jeans with a beater, with a somewhat tattered flight jacket overtop. While we conversed about what he needed from me, his eyes would sometimes dip below my belt-line before flying back up to my face or chest. Supposedly, he was Henry’s roommate.

I sent off my notebook with the ginger after writing a small note in it. Hopefully neither he nor Henry noticed my dejection.

-x-

Rounding the corner of the red brick building, the late afternoon’s light played up a yellow glow on the path. The trees had long lost their leaves. William stood under one, gazing at the overcast sky which threatened the trek home with snow.

“Afton! Hey, Afton!” Henry Emily called his name, holding his backpack strap in one arm while waving with the other. His cheeks were rosy, the wintry chill of October running upon them. Grinning ear to ear, “I have your notebook for you, almost forgot to give it back at the end of class.”

“Thank you. I hope you’re feeling better,” William opened his satchel and placed the notebook inside, “how was your week?” When he started to walk, Henry walked beside him.

Now that he was used to Henry’s company, it became so much easier to joke around. William found great joy in how surprisingly morbid Henry could be; he was an incredibly bright young man, sarcastic and considerate all at once. They shared a route to the dorm building, talking all the while.

“What are you going to be doing tonight?” Henry looked up from the can he had been kicking. The aluminum clinked along the sidewalk, charmingly beaten up.

William thought for a moment. “Nothing in particular. Why do you ask?” In his mind, he hoped that Henry would invite him in. He wanted to slip under Henry’s skin like a blade slipping into its sheath, to look just a little bit closer at what made him tick. 

“It’s Halloween, you know. I thought you might want to go see a movie or something. _Die, Monster, Die!_ just came out, and Fawkes is too pussy to go see it with me.”

“Fawkes is your…”

“Roommate.”

“Right, right. And do you usually celebrate Halloween? I thought it was more a children’s holiday over here. Candy and whatnot.” A small smile appeared on William’s face, remembering that Henry had quite a sweet tooth for someone their age.

“You’re thinking of trick-or-treating, that’s for kids. I’m thinking of going to a drive-in and seeing some really scary shit for fun.” Henry stood on the doorstep, not quite eye-level with William as the sun began to set behind them.

“Doesn’t a drive-in theatre require a car? A regular theatre won’t suffice?” As exciting as a drive-in was, with its closed space and darkness, neither of the two owned a car. While William was considering his options, he was totally unaware of the internal debate that was going on just a foot away.

  
  


Henry’s brain was bouncing off the walls of his skull. He hadn’t had a good friend in so long - not counting Fawkes - and he wanted to soak up all the attention while he could. A regular theater would work, he knew that, but something about a drive-in made him buzz. There was even one within walking distance from campus. “I just thought a drive-in would be cooler,” he finally relented. “There’s an Edwards we can walk to. Wanna go there instead?”

“I’d love to.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_“Aaaaah!!”_

Cries erupted from the crowd. People shielded their eyes from the horror playing out in front of them in black-and-white, the light flickering through the projection. The dust in the air danced in front of the beam, more than once Henry caught William turning slightly in his chair to look at it.

Now that they were here, there were so many little behavioral things that William never noticed. Henry liked to dress like a cowboy, but toned down and more “mid-western,” as it was explained; rough blue jeans, boots that made a thunking noise, and large collection of plaid shirts achieved this aesthetic. In the dark of the theatre, the rims of Henry’s circular glasses glinted and reflected in his eyes. Those wide-open eyes, full and oak brown, matched his hair perfectly. Henry was hyper focused on the film and his pupils were delightfully dilated. Really, there was so much to see.

Special among these things to see was the utter look of terror that splashed on his face from time to time. Without much encouragement at all, William found that Henry clung to him in moments of fear. This must have been that thing called _friendship_ he had heard so much about; when Henry’s hand reached for Will’s arm, he wanted to protect him from the made-up threats. 

“How aren’t you scared, Afton?!” Henry whisper-yelled playfully, tugging on William’s sleeves. The bucket of excessively-buttered popcorn between them bent and spilled over with the brunet’s enthusiasm.

He chuckled low. “I suppose I’m just not easily startled?” William smiled - for the first time in ages, it felt near genuine. “But if you’re afraid, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Tell me when to look, okay?” His head was turned between their seats, the subtle roundness of his face squishing against the rigid back of the chair. Henry Emily was the kind of man to giggle when nervous, Will learned, as each swell of the orchestra made Henry peek at the screen before looking away again.

Spending time like this was fun. It was just enough to watch Henry react to things, to feel as if he was mutually interested in someone. When there was no longer a need to make excuses to be together, it was clear that Henry wanted William to like him - and, for some reason, _it was reciprocal._

Strolling out of the theatre together under the night sky, one thing became clear to William in that moment. There was little satisfaction in owning Henry the way one owns an achievement, a trophy. To own Henry like one owns something very precious, as if he were a fine gem, would be much better. Each laugh further cemented this conclusion, the dazzling and chilly colors of late autumn made the moment pass as if it were in slow-motion.

  
  
  
  


The perfect boy-next-door image was cast when they arrived back at campus.

“Thanks for coming with me, William,” Henry had rested one of his arms behind his own neck, half-apologetically. “It was a lot of fun.” 

They had settled in front of the bulletin-board for their goodbye, its ancient overhead light casting an intensely yellow circle of light in a field of blue and purple. It only served to accentuate how warm Henry’s face was, where it contrasted sharply with the natural coldness of William’s.

“I enjoyed myself as well. Have a good night’s sleep, won’t you?”

And with a wave, their night together was over.


End file.
